A Series of One-Shots

Mommy Dearest

This is a story of the time my mom tried to kidnap me o_o It's completely true...

Mommy Dearest

            “I’m saving you from mom,” My brother, Jake, told me.

            I looked up from my computer and stared at him for a moment. “What?”

            “I’m going to tell her that you aren’t here so you don’t have to go.”

            “Thank you,” I told him, genuinely meaning it. In retrospect it probably wasn’t the best idea to listen to a boy who tended to tell everybody our family’s private business, but at the time I had trusted him.

            I hadn’t talked to my mother in two months. I hadn’t trusted her. All she did was lie and when the first lie failed, she created another one. Only Jake talked to her. My older brother, Aaron, hadn’t talked to her either, not since he left to work at camp. The only way she would try to talk to us was through and endless stream of text messages. She never tried to call; she never tried to talk to us in person. Maybe because she knew we wouldn’t answer or a door would get slammed in her face, but it would’ve seemed like she was trying harder.

            Sometimes I wondered if I should give up all hope in her. Her lazy attempts to show her affections only proved that my faith in her should be reduced. But Jake continued to believe that she could turn her life around. That she would stop being the way she was. I never believed it for a second.

            “She’ll be here in a few minutes.” He told me, “Go hide in your room. I won’t tell her you’re there. I’ll just say you’re at Amanda’s or something.”

            “Thank you,” I stood up, taking my laptop with me and hugged him. “It’s times like these that I remember why I don’t send you to the pound.”

            “I thought that was because Dad wouldn’t let you.”

            “Yeah, that too,” I held my computer to my chest and ran up the stairs. I slid past the dresser in my door way and went to sit next to my bed. My room was filled with piles of clutter, most of which wasn’t mine. But like a good little girl, I didn’t complain. I just waited patiently for somebody to come home and clear it out. I sat on top of a basket of clothes.

            I was talking to my friend, Disnie. I only ever talked to her online. She lived in Texas, so face to face conversation was rare.

            I heard the familiar sound of tires on rocks and the slamming of a door. She pulled out and sped away. I decided to wait a few minutes, just to be safe. It might’ve just been the neighbor, so I waited. Five minutes later, just as I was about to stand, someone started pounding on the door. I froze. Who was it? Maybe it was Anthony or one of those people who went door-to-door to try and sell people their religious beliefs.

            The person’s pounding was insisting. I knew they weren’t going to give up any time soon, so I got up from my perch—without ease I might add. I marched downstairs, not bothering to see if I could see the person through the window while walking down. I flung the door open. “What do you want?” I asked Jake, my eyebrows pulling together.

            He looked angry. “Mom said you either get in her car now or she’ll come in and get you.”

            I scowled, “I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying here.” ‘Jake told!’ Was the only thought running through my head. He told on me. He was here to retrieve me. My brother had betrayed me.